


How's Your AIDS?

by riseelectric



Category: Original Work
Genre: Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseelectric/pseuds/riseelectric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna gets revenge on Mikhail (via Lev.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How's Your AIDS?

“M’bored.”

Lev’s voice cuts through the sound of Oleg switching channels on the cracked television screen. With the solar flare at the peak of its activity, most of the channels are static more often than not. The lack of anything interesting at all does nothing to lessen the muggy atmosphere of the room; lethargy is the apparently the order of the day. Oleg grunts, but otherwise makes no indication that he’d heard. Neither does Anna, who’s lounging on the other side of the couch. The fourth member of their quartet is nowhere to be seen, Mikhail having fucked off somewhere around thirty minutes ago. Lev hasn’t seen him since.

Seconds pass.

“I’m _bored_ ,” Lev says again, slightly louder this time.

“No one cares, Lev.” Anna mutters. She’s draped like a cat across the cushions, face smushed against the material while one hand dangles listlessly over the side. When Lev blows out his cheeks at her, she gives a wide yawn without bothering to cover her mouth.

“There’s gotta be _some_ thing we can do,” Lev insists.

“Like what?”

“Like--”

“Forget it, too lazy.” Anna mumbles before he can finish, or even start. Lev starts to make a whining noise in the back of his throat.

“I think Mikhail said something about heading to _Ilyich_ ’s,” Oleg begins hurriedly, when suddenly Anna perks up and hisses. “Shut up, Oleg. He told us not to say anything, remember?”

Lev sits up. He and Oleg are wearing identical expressions of perplexion. “Wait, what?”

Oleg blinks. “DId he? I don’t th--”

“He did.” Anna interrupts, and there’s something about her expression and tone that makes Lev’s brow furrow.

“Why doesn’t Mikhail want me knowing where he is?” he demands.

“Lev, he said no such th--”

“Who knows?” Anna cuts in, again, the corner of her lips quirking into a half-smirk. “Not me.”

Lev tries to make himself stand up, but his limbs are still feeling sluggish. He rolls himself off the couch instead, landing with a thump and a small yelp on the floor before slowly getting to his feet. “Fine. _Don’t_ say anything, see if I care. _Ilyich_ ’s, yeah?”

“Nope.”

That decided him. Lev shrugs on a thin jacket. “Be back later,” he announces, and disappears through the front door.

Two pairs of eyes watch him leave, one amused, the other bemused. Oleg turns to Anna, eyebrows raising. “Why did you do that?” he asks slowly.

Anna smiles. “I just remembered. Mikhail stole my date three weeks ago. And she was really cute.”

“And…?”

“I’m still bitter about it.”

“What do you m-- oh. Ah.” Oleg starts to laugh. “He’s gonna find out it’s you at some point, you know.”

Grinning ferally and bearing a rather uncanny resemblance to a shark, Anna settles back into the couch as a tinny laugh-track issues from the TV.

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

 _Ilyich_ ’s isn’t as crowded as it usually is on Friday nights, thanks to the solarstorm, but there’s still a considerable gathering. Lev sneaks his way by way of the shadow of a larger patron, and then spends the next ten minutes just wandering around, bumping into people, getting underfoot and making a general nuisance of himself while keeping an eye out for Mikhail.

He’s been turning Anna’s cryptic words over in his head, but he still can’t quite figure out why the hell Mikhail had apparently not wanted him to know his location tonight. It wasn’t like it was a mystery what Mikhail did on his spare nights sometimes, even if he had flicked Lev hard on the forehead that time Lev had called him a slut.

Some twink pushes past him, hard, making him stumble. He laughs drunkenly when Lev hisses at him.

“Get lost on your way to the playground, little boy?” he says in Russian.

“Fuck off,” Lev replies in kind, already moving away. The titters follow him all the way to the bar.

He flops down onto a seat. The bartender’s back is to him, and Lev whistles sharply to get his attention. “Hey, you.”

The bartender’s shoulders twitch a little as he turns, wiping a glass. He takes one annoyed look at Lev and says flatly. ”No.”

Lev splutters. “I’ve got ID--”

His only response is a glass of vermilion liquid slammed down in front of his nose. “Don’t even start. Just be glad I can’t be fucked to kick you out right now, kid.” the man barks. Lev glowers, and the bartender glowers back even harder. “Now shut up and drink your OJ. Or else.”

“Pretty sure this shit’s radioactive,” Lev mutters, sotto voce, but one look at the man’s glare and he’s ducking his head and doing exactly what he’s told.

Nursing his wounded pride, he sips sulkily at his battery-acid excuse for orange juice and resumes the search for Mikhail, casting about for a hint of unruly black hair.

Lev witnesses a full-blown make-out session, the makings of what promised to be the barfight of the _century_ , the breaking up of said bar fight, and the forcible exit of one of the patrons-- in that order, which may or may not be correlated -- before he finally spots the one he’s looking for.

Mikhail turns the corner not ten meters from where Lev is slouched on his barstool, laughing easily with some broad. Lev watches, chin in one hand, as the two of them chuckle at something Mikhail says. One of his hands settle on the other side of her waist, and she leans into him.

Lev makes a face. Mikhail’s all suave and light touches and so _obvious_ it makes Lev want to hurl. This won’t do. He hurriedly finishes the rest of his juice and hops off the barstool, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand as he approaches Mikhail.

Mikhail doesn’t notice him until it’s far, far too late, i.e. when Lev pops up _right_ beside him, arms folded. In fact, Mikhail’s just turning around when Lev appears out of absolutely nowhere by his elbow. Mikhail startles, but manages to hide his surprise well, his drink barely sloshing in its glass. Smooth. Asshole.

“--know right! And I couldn’t even say anything, I-- _Jesus Christ_ , _Lev_ , what’re you doing here?”

“You left the stove on.” Lev deadpans.

The woman beside Mikhail smiles. “Aw, is this your little brother?”

Mikhail laughs charmingly, the kind of chuckle that sends shivers down spines and makes panties wet. The sound reveals absolutely zero of the murder that’s in his eyes as he looks right at Lev.

“Oh, god, no, he’s just some kid, he shouldn’t even be h--”

“Mom told me,” Lev says, loud enough for the entire _bar_ to hear, “that she wanted me to tell you that you forgot to renew your Valtrex prescription. _Again_.”

The woman’s smile disappears. Mikhail’s freezes on his face. Several people turn their heads to look at them.

There’s a pregnant pause. Mikhail makes a funny noise, like a chicken being strangled.

“I gotta go.” she says abruptly, extricating herself from Mikhail’s hand around her waist, holding it away from her like it’s a wet earthworm. It takes a second for Mikhail to register, but he makes a valiant effort to save the entire situation. (Lev is amused.)

“Natalya, he’s not serious, I don’t even know him! We’re not related! And I don’t have herpes, I swear-- just hear me out-- Natalya!”

She walks away, Mikhail several steps behind her, imploring. Lev leans against the wall, whistling and bouncing absently on his feet. He waits for Mikhail to come back.

Which Mikhail does about two minutes later, fuming. He collars Lev in a dark corner and shakes him.

“What the hell are you doing here?! You know what, I don’t care, more importantly what the _fuck_ was that?!”

Lev gives him the same answer as he’d given Anna. “M’bored.”

“So what, your idea of fun is to _cockblock me?!_ ”

Lev’s grin spreads wider. Mikhail makes a motion like he’s choking Lev’s neck with his bare hands. Their corner is pretty dark; he can afford to lose his cool for a second without anyone else noticing. The best about this whole thing, Lev decides, is watching Mikhail squirm. Lev must have really surprised him this time, because he can’t remember the last time he got the upper hand on Mikhail like this, if ever. He’s used to Mikhail just jumping back and turning the tables on Lev. Not this time, apparently.

“Go _away_ , Lev.” Mikhail finally threatens. “Or else.”

“Or else what?”

Mikhail smooths down the wrinkles in his top, running a hand through his hair, making himself presentable even as he hisses. “Or else fuck you, that’s what!” He stalks off.

(Lev is still amused.)

 

* * *

 

Lev spends the rest of his time at _Ilyich_ ’s following Mikhail around, entertaining himself at Mikhail’s expense. Two hours later, Mikhail gives up entirely. Lev punctuating every third word of his with clapping and meaningful glances was bad enough, but there’s really just no possible way, at all, to recover from Lev’s drive-by yelling, _“Hey, Mikhail, how’s your AIDS?”_.

“I _hate_ , you, so much,” Mikhail grits, as he pulls Lev bodily out of the door into the street. “Thanks for making my night, Lev, really, thanks a lot. I can’t come back here for at _least_ a month now.”

“Aw, why not?” Lev grins wildly, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“ _Everyone_ thinks I have venereal diseases, you ass!” Mikhail explodes.

“I don't know what that word is, but I can guess. Wow, I wonder how that happened? Sorry, _bratan_.”

Mikhail jabs a finger into Lev’s chest, hard enough to bruise. “I’m this close to punching you, you little--”

The finger is slapped away, Lev yawning in Mikhail’s face. “Calm your tits, your dick can get a wetting another day.” He ignores Mikhail’s indignation at his choice of words and plows on. “Anyway, it wasn’t my idea in the first place. Y’know, I only came because Anna said you didn’t want me to.”

Mikhail cuts himself off mid-rant. “... _Anna_ sent you!?”

Understanding suddenly dawns across Mikhail’s face. Lev cocks his head.

“No, I wasn’t _sent_ , I came myself. She only said-- Mikhail? Mikhail! Hey, dammit, wait up! Come back! I wasn’t s _ent_!”

 

* * *

 

“ _ANNA._ ”

The front door to the apartment slams open. Lev pokes in his head, and raises an eyebrow. Anna and Oleg don’t look like they’ve moved a single fucking inch since he’s left.

Mikhail bursts past him, heading straight for Anna. He points an accusatory finger back at Lev, who’s too busy looking confused to look even remotely guilty.

“I’m going to skip the how and what and go straight to _why_?!”

“Because,” Anna says, looking and sounding singularly unfazed, “of Zoya.”

“Who?”

"Black hair, spider tattoo."

"...from a whole month ago?! Are you serious!"

"Dammit, Mikhail, she was gonna come home with _me_ , not you!"

"I didn't know that!"

"Yes you did!"

"No!"

"I know you're lying!"

Lev and Oleg watch with interest as Mikhail struggles for words.

"Okay. Okay, fine." he finally concedes, throwing his hands up. He takes a deep breath. "Still, sending Lev was overkill, and you know it."

"Yeah, I know." Anna allows. She smirks at him. "Sorry."

"Sorry for stealing your date."

Mikhail sighs and seats himself onto the sagging couch. Oleg laughs, shakes his head, and throws a can of beer at him. Mikhail catches it deftly, popping it open and starting to down the entire thing in one go.

Meanwhile, Lev frowns. He's starting to make sense of what exactly went down tonight... of his own part as a complete and utter pawn in Anna's game.

"Hey, wait a second--"

Oleg throws a can at him too. It hits Lev in the face.

"Just shut up and drink, Lev."


End file.
